Elton John

Goodbye Yellow Brick Road (1973)

1.Funeral For A Friend/Love Lies Bleeding
2.Candle in the Wind
3.Bennie and the Jets
4.Goodbye Yellow Brick Road
5.This Song has no Title
6.Grey Seal
7.Jamaica Jerk-Off
8.I've Seen that Movie Too
9.Sweet Painted Lady
10.The Ballad of Danny Bailey (1909-1934)
11.Dirty Little Girl
12.All the Girls Love Alice
13.Your Sister Can't Twist (But She Can Rock 'n Roll)
14.Saturday Night's Alright for Fighting
15.Roy Rogers
16.Social Disease
17.Harmony

If there is one album that towers above the rest in Elton John’s extensive catalogue—both in ambition and execution—it is Goodbye Yellow Brick Road. Released in late 1973, this sprawling double LP (mercifully condensed onto a single compact disc in the CD era) represents the apotheosis of the John/Taupin partnership, capturing both artists at the peak of their creative powers. While debates continue over favourite records, few would contest this as Elton’s defining moment. It is, quite simply, his Sgt. Pepper.

Everything about the album speaks to excess—length, scope, stylistic breadth—and yet remarkably little is wasted. The opening track, a grandiose two-part suite titled Funeral for a Friend/Love Lies Bleeding, sets the tone: synthesised funeral march into glam rock eulogy, it’s as audacious as it is effective. From there, the hits arrive in rapid succession: the showbiz satire Bennie and the Jets (an unlikely U.S. No.1), the barroom brawler Saturday Night’s Alright for Fighting, the original studio version of Candle in the Wind (written in tribute to Marilyn Monroe), and the wistful title track—a masterclass in melodic longing.

But to regard this only as a hits vehicle is to miss the point. The true triumph of Goodbye Yellow Brick Road lies in its stylistic diversity and the remarkable consistency with which Elton and Bernie navigate it. Sweet Painted Lady evokes sailors and sad romance with the finesse of a theatrical vignette. I’ve Seen That Movie Too smoulders with cinematic bitterness, complete with weeping slide guitar. Grey Seal, a re-recording of an earlier single, brims with cryptic energy, while This Song Has No Title, finds Elton pounding the piano with proto-punk glee.

There are nods to nostalgia, as in the gently melancholic Roy Rogers, and to fantasy, with The Ballad of Danny Bailey, an affectionate gangster tale worthy of a lost pulp novel. For those seeking something rougher, there’s the jagged swagger of All the Girls Love Alice, a track whose raunchy subject matter remains bracing even today. Your Sister Can’t Twist (But She Can Rock ’n’ Roll) delivers pure rockabilly pastiche, while Jamaica Jerk-Off provides a moment of light reggae mischief—its intentions more comic than authentic, but charming all the same.

Not every track escapes criticism. Dirty Little Girl and Social Disease have drawn attention in recent years for their less-than-generous portrayals of women. Taupin himself has admitted to writing in character, but there’s little denying the occasional lapse into lyrical bluntness. Still, in the context of such a vast and varied record, these moments feel more like missteps than defining flaws.

The album closes on a high note with Harmony, a soft, soaring ballad that never charted but remains a quiet favourite among long-time fans. Its placement at the end of the record—after 75 minutes of genre-hopping grandeur—feels like a gentle farewell, a curtain drawn after the most lavish production of Elton’s career.

For those new to Elton John, Goodbye Yellow Brick Road remains the most comprehensive entry point: an almost greatest-hits collection disguised as a proper album, but one whose deep cuts reward just as richly as its radio staples. It is not just Elton’s finest hour—it is one of the definitive albums of the 1970s.

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